


Taking Liberties

by ashes0909



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Master Tony Stark, Power Imbalance, Slow Burn, Valet Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: “Well”--Pepper wiped her mouth with the aubergine cloth napkin--“out with it.”“Wha--?”“You haven’t left the house since I last saw you, so the source of your distraction must be on the grounds.”“Miss--”“You have a new valet--”“Pepper,” Tony hissed, even if part of him was impressed by her quick deduction skills.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 40
Kudos: 165





	Taking Liberties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betheflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday Flame and Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you enjoy this fic.   
> Thank you ferret for the beta and late night talks of propriety.

Tony Stark stood before the grandiose windows along the far wall of the blue room, his mind fixed on his latest invention. His last two tests had failed spectacularly, which meant he needed to roll back the adjustments he’d made. Unfortunately, with that went his plan to finish before the end of the month. He’d have to switch his focus to the stacked discs of copper and zinc that he’d separated with cloth soaked in salty water, if he wanted any results on his electric battery. 

The sound of horseshoes hitting cobblestone shook Tony from his thoughts. Below, on his entryway, a carriage pulled towards the servants entrance. Mr. Rhodes, his lifelong friend and butler, walked out to greet the new arrival. 

Maybe he needed to go back to the last iteration of the battery, back before the problems began. He might have the time if--

The carriage door opened, and the afternoon sun reflected off the stranger’s blond hair. He carried a suitcase, and Tony realized the newcomer was his recently hired valet. The last one had left amicably, moving into the city to look after a relative, and Tony had trusted Mr. Rhodes to fill the position. 

Tony turned away from the window, mind already back on his invention. When Rhodes was ready for him to become acquainted with the valet, Tony would soon find out.

The afternoon turned to evening, and the rumbling in his stomach eventually forced him to push away from his laboratory desk and pull the bell for dinner. Ink and oil soaked under his nails and he needed to bathe and dress for his evening meal. There were occasions that he would take the meals at this very desk, but Miss Potts was visiting for the fortnight and he didn’t want to be the reason behind her sour mood or twisted expression. 

It wasn’t until he was in his quarters that he remembered the potential new valet. The question about whether Mr. Rhodes had deemed the new valet acceptable was answered as soon as Tony stepped in the bedchamber.

“Ah, good evening,” Tony greeted the back of the man that was busy with the pitcher needed to ready Tony’s evening bath. The man froze for a moment, then pivoted on his heel with a rueful expression on his face. 

“Mr. Stark,” the stranger lowered his head and bowed. “Rogers, Steve.” He straightened and when Tony didn’t immediately say anything, the man continued speaking. Untrained, then. Tony smirked, he always enjoyed some lively company. Attractive, too, which made Tony slightly suspicious since Rhodes usually liked to keep him away from any sort of fun, and especially this sort.

“Mr. Rhodes’ father knew my father. They served together.” Well that explained that. “I was a batman to an officer in the army briefly, and--” he cut himself off, blushing, definitely realizing that he had spoken out of turn.

Tony waved towards the bar, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “Scotch, please, then I’ll have a bath.” Mr. Rogers seemed slightly more comfortable once he had a task. 

Tony held out his hand when he heard Mr. Rogers approach and the glass slid into his palm. Quiet settled in his chambers as Tony sipped his drink. Mr. Rogers had begun airing out his dinner attire, hanging it over the clothes horse in waiting for after he bathed. The new valet appeared young but not overly so, perhaps in his mid twenties, filled out and muscular like he enjoyed boxing as a pastime. Tony said a silent prayer for his pretty face. It would be a wonder if the man could make it into town without half a dozen onlookers. Tony wondered if Mr. Rogers had a preference, when it came to onlookers, if maybe he’d fancied a hometown girl or rumbled in tents between battles with fellow soldiers. 

The scotch burned down his throat, and Tony realized how long it had been since he’d felt pure, distracting lust. Miss Potts had introduced him to a dozen or so pleasant and proper ladies and gentleman, but all of them had been more about the business and his heredity, and whenever he lamented to her about the lack of titillation she ushered him back into his laboratory.

Going into the city and finding trouble had proven more and more difficult in the decade since his father passed. Gone were the days of frivolous springtimes in the city.

Mr. Rogers was waiting when Tony finished his scotch, plucking the glass from the end table and bringing it to the wetbar. Tony stood, made his way over to the mirror and waited for Mr. Rogers to approach him. In the reflection he was able to see the couple inches of height he had over Tony and the observation did nothing to quell the simmering arousal. 

He took a deep breath, because Mr. Rogers was about to very dutifully help undress him and Tony was more than capable of behaving himself this far into his thirties. 

Tony held his arms out and let Mr. Rogers begin the arduous task of unbuttoning and untying Tony from his clothing one article at a time. He made swift work of his waistcoat but when his fine, large hands reached for the hem of his undershirt, Tony laid a gentle touch to his fingers to stop the motion. 

Tony’s chest was a knot of scar tissue and uncomfortable memories. He had let every other valet continue their duty since his accident that had occurred when Mr. Rogers was still in short pants, but vanity stopped him with Mr. Rogers. 

Tony chuckled under his breath. Mr. Rogers dropped his hand away, stepped back. “Sir, should I--?” Mr. Rogers quieted with a wave of Tony’s hand.

“Go look in on dinner. By the time you return, I should be ready to redress.” A dismissal, one that Mr. Rogers picked up on and followed immediately. 

In the warm, deep water, Tony let his mind wander. What if he had let Mr. Rogers--Steve, the man had said--continue with his undressing? His strong, large hands would barely touch Tony but still manage to make sparks dance under his skin. If Steve found the state of his britches to be anywhere near his current aroused state, how would he have reacted? 

Tony’s wandering mind led his wandering hand over his chest, past the knot of scars and down to the jut of his hip, along the inside of his splayed inner thighs. Would Steve be the type to take his time or--Tony twisted his hand so it could grip his cock--would Steve’s grip be firm, determined, maybe curious and loose, just testing the feel of him? Tony moaned into the bathroom, the steam soaking into him, sending his brain into a hazy state of arousal, but he didn’t have the luxury of time. He finished himself off with ease, thoughts of Steve undressing him sending him over the edge quicker than anything else had in a long while. 

Only a few moments after he finished washing off the lathered soap, he heard the outer door opening. Mr. Rogers had returned from the kitchens, probably checking to make sure every button was in place, every crease straightened of his dining clothes. If he hadn’t just dealt with his tension moments ago, the thought of Mr. Rogers' hands caressing over his pants once Tony occupied them would have made his cock twitch.

Instead, he stood and reached for a nearby bath towel, patting himself dry before wrapping it around himself. Mr. Rogers’ back was turned to him, setting his letters on his writing desk. He must have picked up the deliveries on his way back upstairs. Efficient. Tony ducked over to his wardrobe and slid on his underthings and then Mr. Rogers was there in front of him, ready to assist him. Tony took a deep breath and a hint of summer sun hit his nose. They remained silent, but it was like every turn of Mr. Rogers’ wrist, every twist of a button fastening was like a conversation to Tony, a question fixing in his mind that he wanted to ask but he wouldn’t because he didn’t want to ruin the calm silence that had grown between them. 

Tony tried to recall a single memory of dressing with his previous valet and fell short. Yet he knew this time--and every time with Mr. Rogers--would be memorable.

And then it was time for dinner. 

Mr. Rogers stepped away with a smile, not meeting Tony’s gaze but that didn’t mean Tony had missed his bright blue eyes.

Miss Potts was waiting for him in the dining room, and it only took a few minutes for her to realize Tony was more distracted than usual. With Miss Potts, he never maintained a guard and she could read all his signs of impatience like a well-worn book. “Well”--she wiped her mouth with the aubergine cloth napkin--“out with it.” 

“Wha--?”

“You haven’t left the house since I last saw you, so the source of your distraction must be on the grounds.”

“Miss--”

“You have a new valet--”

“Pepper,” Tony hissed, even if part of him was impressed by her quick deduction skills. 

But she left herself open to his counterattack. “And how, pray tell, do you know the goings-on below stairs?” A bright dusting colored her cheeks and Tony knew he had her. “I thought you’d ended it with Mister Rhodes.”

“Tony,” she hissed, much like Tony had not moments ago, eyes flickering to the maids who looked as prim and proper as always as they dashed in and out of the dining room with dishes, but Tony knew gossip ran like mad through the Manor. 

“I see we’ve come to the end of that particular conversation. Shall we venture onto the weather?”

Miss. Potts snorted, then covered it up by wiping her mouth again. “Quite,” she said in agreement, but her gaze was far from pleased. 

Tony still considered it a win.

#####  ~~~

And then it was time to undress again. Mr. Rogers was standing by the wardrobe and mirror with his hands behind his back looking unobtrusive and perfectly polite. Tony sent him a half-smirk that bloomed into an actual smile when Mr. Rogers finally met his gaze. 

“Good evening,” Tony greeted.

“You as well, sir. How did you find dinner this evening?” He moved to walk behind Tony as he asked the question, hands coming up to run over his shoulders before pulling off his dinner jacket; Tony tried not to shiver under his touch.

“Excellent as always,” he answered after a moment, remembering to partake in the conversation. “Miss Potts is always a welcome dining partner.” 

Mr. Rogers made a noncommittal noise. Tony wondered if he was more curious than he was letting on about Miss Potts, if he was curious about their relationship but knew it was above his position to inquire. Tony found that he wanted to supply Mr. Rogers with the context of their relationship even without prompting. “We’ve known each other for what seems like forever. And”--Tony lowered his voice, even though he knew no one else was in his chambers--“can you keep a secret?”

Steve met his gaze again when he turned back from hanging Tony’s dinner jacket. “Of course, Mister Stark. Maintaining your confidence is part of my duties as your valet.” He blushed. “And I wouldn’t say I don’t find you interesting overall.”

Tony was momentarily thrown by the flattery. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Right.” What were they talking about? Mr. Rogers’ blue eyes sparkled a bit from the light of the lamp. He shook his head. “Miss Potts likes to take long holidays here, at least when one Mr. Rhodes is in her favor. Which it seems as if they are currently back on again.” 

Mr. Rogers’ eyes widened in shock. “And you’re….unalarmed by this?”

Tony laughed. “Why do you ask? Because you thought there was something between Miss Potts and I, or because of--”

“--I do believe that would be none of my business, sir.”

“--the impropriety? And it isn’t--any of your business, that is--but I wanted to share anyway.”

Mr. Rogers' ears turned red as he let out an airy laugh. Tony found it adorable. 

“I see,” Mr. Rogers said. “Well.” His eyes flew everywhere but towards Tony and he wondered if maybe Mr. Rogers was considering what other improprieties Tony would allow...or if that was just wishful thinking on Tony’s part. “I can assure you that my knowledge of their….relationship... will remain securely in my possession.”

Tony laughed again. “The whole Manor knows, but I guess for guests and whatnot.” Tony shrugged. “It’s not an issue for them--”

“--because it’s not an issue for you. Which is generous.” Steve started to unbutton his waistcoat and Tony’s breath caught. He would have liked to attribute it to Steve undressing him but he knew himself enough to know it was because of the compliment. With the waistcoat pulled back, Steve walked around his back to pull it from his shoulders. 

“I am known for my generosity,” Tony lied, because he didn’t know what else to say. His mind had started to wander to the fact that Mr. Rogers was two layers away from his bare chest and the thought had his heart racing. Last time, he’d managed the final layer on his own, but Mr. Rogers was his valet and he’d find out sooner or later, sure enough. Tony wasn’t an insecure man, but he could see from the width of Mr. Rogers shoulders and what appeared to be a wall of muscle, that the man probably appeared like a marble statue when his shirt was removed. 

Tony on the other hand…

Mr. Rogers must have sensed Tony’s hesitation because his hands paused on the hem of the loose cotton. “Sir?”

“Continue.” Tony nodded, then there was just white cloth pulled over his head and Steve’s unobtrusive gaze avoiding the nest of scar tissue in the center of his chest. Prim, proper, professional; Tony hated it. 

“It was a chemical explosion,” Tony offered, because Mr. Rogers surely wouldn’t ask. He had the satisfaction of hearing the man’s breath catch then exhale raggedly as his gaze purposely moved over the scars.

“Should I--Is there...for healing? Should I add anything to--”

“No need, Mr. Rogers. The scars seem to take care of themselves merely by existing. No need to--”

“I merely ask because, well--” He tugged back his collar so he could show Tony the patch of scars right under his collarbone. “Bullet. Some shrapnel too. I find that certain salves can do the trick to ease the tightness of the skin.”

“I see.” Tony didn’t want to think of this man in pain, near death or close to it. A bullet wound to the chest was a serious injury. And Tony had been worried of what--? Appearing weak. Having this gorgeous man think less of him. But here he was, offering advice instead.

“There’s one salve in particular I use. A friend of mine with far worse scars than either of us developed the recipe--” Rogers' cut himself off, blushing as he presumably realized the impropriety of his casual conversation. It warmed something inside Tony, made him want to wrap his arms around the man, but that would be an absolute scandal, and the way Steve questioned Miss Potts and Rhodes, well, he didn’t want to make Steve run away appalled. So, instead, Tony focused on his kind suggestion.

“I’m amenable to anything you recommend.”

Steve nodded. “A valet’s duties.”

Tony couldn’t help the sardonic half smile and snort. 

“I’m sorry, sir?” 

“It’s nothing. Only. Well,” Tony gestured towards the door that led to outside of his room, outside of this soft tucked away place where Tony felt brave. “You see how I feel about proprietary. I was accepting the recommendation...from a potential friend?”

He hadn’t expected the faint blush that crossed Mr. Rogers' pale cheeks but the rush of adrenaline it sparked in Tony wasn’t surprising at all; Steve Rogers looked gorgeous when he blushed. Nodding, he turned away, and Tony was bereft for a moment but then Steve turned back around and there was something lighter to his stance, to the way his fingers pushed over Tony’s shoulder. “If you say so, sir.”

“I do.”

#####  ~~~

A month passed and still, whenever in the valet’s presence, Tony was not able to pull his gaze from Steve for very long. Sure, he managed to hide it behind newspapers or textbooks. There was no need to avert his focus all the time, anyway, Steve was in his employ afterall, and with that came a need to interact. 

He was Steve now, though Tony failed at his many attempts for the other man to call him Tony. No, instead Steve flushed and fluttered away the suggestion with a flippant hand gesture. But he always smiled a charmingly wide grin with all of his teeth on display when Tony offered, so he found himself trying more often than not for that reason more than anything else. 

Another fortnight passed, and Steve began dropping some of his stiffness, sometimes leaving propriety at the wayside when no one else was present. Tony started to form in his head tells, for when he met Valet-Steve or Steve-Steve. How often would Steve meet his gaze? How long would he maintain said connected gaze? He’d smile more freely, give his opinion more readily. But only for brief slips of time, and then Valet-Steve would return. 

It was another early morning, and Tony still hadn’t dressed yet, but Steve had brought in his post and took an overcoat downstairs to try and work a grease stain out. He grabbed his letter opener and opened the correspondence on top, mind more focused on the electric battery he was trying to perfect. It wasn’t until his gaze flicked to the first line that he groaned. 

Obadiah Stane. 

Stane only wrote to him for two reasons: Tony had done something that he disagreed with or there was a new business venture that appreciated tech and numbers and actually wanted to meet the brains of Stark Industries. Ever since Howard had died--leaving Tony the entire company along with all his land--Obadiah Stane seemed wrongfooted every time they interacted, like he’d forgotten who exactly was the master of the manor now. 

A trip to the south wasn’t entirely an imposition, though. He enjoyed the wide open spaces and change of scenery the countryside provided. He wondered if Steve would, as well. 

The door creaked open, Steve pushing the heavy wood with a sure hand, the crease in his brow telling Tony more about the state of his overcoat than how his valet was faring this morning. He wondered if Steve had ever been to the south, so he asked, and the crease only deepened.

“Once. But, well. I was born there.”

“Oh!” Tony replied, surprised. “How old were you when you left? Do you have any interest in going back?”

“Very young. And Mr. Stark, need I remind you  _ again _ that I am your valet and because of that I go wherever you go?”

“That’s not what I asked, though.” Tony’s mouth kicked up into a half smirk. “I asked if you were interested.”

Steve moved to hang the coat in his wardrobe and then turned back with the closest approximation to annoyance Steve ever allowed to flutter across his face: a furrowed brow. Tony yearned to see more, knew that under the composure was a curled lip or maybe even a rolled eye. If Tony ever saw Steve throw a punch he may swoon. 

“And if I wasn’t interested,” Steve began, “would it change the fact that I would be packing both of us into a carriage down south anyway?”

“Well…” He had a point there. “I’d at least know whether you were excited about the prospect.”

“My feelings should have no bearing on anything.”

“Ah, but they do,” Tony let slip out, too fast, too exposed, and then in a panic he laughed lightly which made Steve laugh lightly too and settled them into an awkward silence he knew  _ Mr. Rogers _ wouldn’t break. 

“I’ve received a letter from my colleague, well, more of a wishes-he-had-inherited-but-he’ll-hover-around-as-a-pseudo-father-figure type instead.”

“Sounds like it falls on the complicated side,” Steve replied, hands wrapping around to clasp behind his back. “And this colleague requested your presence?”

“Looks that way.” Tony flicked a glance at Steve and then sighed dramatically. “How dreadful this will be. I’ve decided you should ride in the carriage with me and provide solace.”

“Sir--” Steve began but Tony cut him off.

“Oh, no, Mr. Rogers, no need to give any thanks. I assure you.”

Steve pressed his lips together and appeared as if he wanted to argue with Tony some more, and when he met Tony’s gaze his own carried more questions than discomfort about the prospect and Tony’s cajoling. “I guess I shouldn’t negotiate myself into having to endure potentially harsh climates, when I could…”

“Be providing me company,” Tony finished through a grin. 

Steve met him with a smile of his own, even if it did seem tinted with confusion and a touch of exasperation. “Should I ready your cases for first light?”

Tony waved a hand. “It can wait. Till the end of the week at the soonest.” 

Steve pressed his lips together, and narrowed his gaze. “Quite right, sir. No need to rush to visit a pilferer.”

“Steve!” Tony clutched his hand over his heart. “That’s probably the most damning I’ve ever heard you speak of someone.” 

“Well, from what you’ve said, this man sounds like a swindler and fraudster.” 

Tony’s grin only widened. He shouldn’t like the fact that Steve was all but defending him against someone he’d never met, against anyone at all, but he let how pleased he was show, let Steve see that it mattered to Tony that he was on his side. “Far from the impartial servant,” Tony pushed. 

Steve’s gaze flicked onto Tony’s and locked. “I’m not impartial when it comes to people preying on you, Mr. Stark.” His tone was certain, deepened from its serious nature and it took Tony’s breath away. He broke the connection, returning to Tony's closet instead, but Tony was still struck frozen from the force of his words, his stare. 

Tony had never wanted Steve more, because while he still looked delicious as he bent over to fetch something from the bottom drawers of his wardrobe, Tony also wanted to make him smile, make him come near when he had no reason to be; he wanted his friendship. Tony realized he’d fallen for the man, possessing feelings far stronger than lust or mere curiosity. All in all, he was utterly screwed. And not because of what society might think--though that would be an annoyance, if anyone outside his household was to find out--but because these emotions were much harder to run away from...or hide. 

#####  ~~~

The carriage left the following rainy, Sunday morning, the late autumn leaves barely holding onto the tree branches. Steve sat next to him, nose in a book and a pencil pressed between his teeth. Every so often he'd pull the wooden tool out of his mouth to make a notation in the margins. Tony yearned to know his thoughts, add them to the endless well of captured Steve Rogers information, but he didn’t want to disturb him in his leisure. The trip to the south would take six hours. Halfway through they would stop for a light luncheon but otherwise they sat, waiting, and Tony tried not to focus on Steve’s thigh brushing against his. 

They should be sitting across from one another--heck Steve should be sitting on the bench seat with the driver as the valet--but he wasn’t, he was sitting pressed up next to Tony. And, as the countryside rushed by them, he had to consider the fact that all he’d thought about for the first thirty minutes of their journey was about Steve and how they’d chosen to sit in the carriage and the press of his thigh against Tony’s own. He started to wonder if he’d ever been so attuned to someone like this before. 

There’d been Ty, he’d always been brash and determined. And fleeting. Even if their encounters had gone on for almost a decade. Now Lord Stone was off with an entitled heiress on the continent, and Tony had never seen a better match. Besides Ty, there had been a few experimental and chaste kisses with Pepper, and then a long line of beautiful strangers with broad shoulders and hard muscle that failed in comparison to Steve. 

He sounded like a swooning sweetheart writing sonnets on a Sunday afternoon. Tony may have groaned aloud because Steve turned a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Everything alright?” he asked.

“Just stretching,” Tony improvised. “When you get to be my age, you start to get aches and pains.”

“You’re barely thirty-five!” Steve said around a grin. “Surely you’re not aching an overly large amount.”

“You know how old I am?”

Steve’s mouth shot closed like a gulping fish, and Tony was blessed with the sight of his blush. 

“Did you ask about me, Mr. Rogers?”

“Mr. Rogers,” Steve mumbled under his breath, his blush deepening. “So now you adhere to propriety.”

Tony couldn’t help lifting an eyebrow and teasing--teasing  _ back _ \--because surely Steve was teasing him as well. “You seem so keen on it so I thought I’d give it a try, but the matter at hand is you inquiring after me.” Tony smirked. “I believe you did. Whatever did you want to know?”

“Tony--” Steve groaned, and Tony’s breath caught at the first sounds of Steve using his name. “I was just curious.”

It was like Steve hadn’t even noticed, like maybe he’d been calling him by his given name in his mind for far longer than he’d allowed Tony the bounty of hearing it. Tony wanted to poke at the new development in their relationship, but he was also afraid of overstepping, or, more accurately, of scaring Steve out of all familiarities entirely. So instead he swallowed and continued their conversation. 

“So you asked my age?” He crossed his arms over his chest, this was proving to be much better carriage entertainment than he had expected. 

“Yes…”

“And?”

“Maybe...why you weren’t, you know, settled down, married.” The pencil that had once been between his teeth was now being hit in a fidgeting rhythm on his book, and he plainly refused to meet Tony’s eye. And the whole scene, from the words Tony could barely believe, to the way his blush only highlighted how much Tony wanted to take a bite, albeit a soft one, out of the apple of his cheeks. 

Steve Rogers was gorgeous, but Tony had never seen this side of him before--bashful, but also a dash of mischief Tony wanted to follow and see what sort of trouble it could lead to. So he poked. “And this information would be pertinent to your valet duties because…?” he smirked, knowing that his face showed how delighted he was by this intrusion, even if his words pretended otherwise. 

“Well--” Steve swallowed, which brought Tony’s attention to his neck, a high collar buttoned tight, but under it Tony knew there was a racing pulsepoint; he thought aimlessly about licking it. “I wanted to know if I should foresee any future, um, well...” It looked like he was searching the air of the carriage to provide answers for him. “In case any callers, particularly of the male variety, entered your acquaintance, I’d hoped to have the proper...tools available.”

Tony snorted. “If you’re implying lubricant, I assure you I’m quite well stocked.” 

If he’d thought Steve had blushed before, the color that accompanied his scandalized face was a near purple. Tony had pushed too far, so he backed away by leaning in closer and whispering, “If you want to know something about me, you can always ask the source, Mr. Rogers.” And then he leaned back to give the man a moment to breathe, and, if he were honest with himself--something he strove arduously never to be--he needed to take a reprieve himself because it was so easy to picture those long fingers dipped in lubricant and curled around something other than a pencil. 

They were in far too close quarters for Tony to be having such vivid fantasies. He couldn’t even keep the pretense of composure. Instead, he pushed open the carriage window to let in a bit of fresh air into the enclosed space. 

“It seems like the weather will hold out,” he heard himself say, and it sounded like a normal thing to say, but they both knew it was clearly a change of subject, and Steve let a breath of amusement before he straightened in his seat and assumed what Tony had dubbed his "valet persona" between one breath and another.

The rest of the ride was pleasant. Tony would have hated the still and quiet, if he hadn’t needed the relief as much as he wanted the flirtations - he needed to prepare for his meeting with Obadiah Stane. The last thing the man could see was a blushing valet and his lascivious lord. Whether that was the truth or not, it was not the  _ only  _ truth. Tony ruled and owned a massive enterprise. He felt the responsibility settle on him like armour; his own persona that ran with deep red blood and weighted him in a heavy gold crown. 

It was within the last twenty minutes of his journey that Tony realized his predicament: the Stark Country Cottage had its own set of eyes and they would not take kindly to seeing his valet riding in the carriage with him as opposed to sitting up top, where his station demanded. Leaving Stark Mansion, he’d been more focused on getting more time with Steve, away from his valet duties, and no one had been around to send them off other than Mr. Rhodes who certainly had nothing to say on the matters of propriety or the importance of maintaining confidences. 

He was going to have to sneak Steve into his proper spot next to the driver and all without making Steve regret the decision to sit in the carriage in the first place. 

Tony cleared his throat. Steve shot him a gaze out of the corner of his eye. Tony wondered if his hesitance showed on his face because something made Steve’s mouth quirk into a half-smile. “So, you finally realized then?”

“What do you--”

“That I can’t arrive at Stark Cottage seated next to you.”

Tony pressed his lips together. “You know what, who cares if they’re scandalized. You should stay here and--”

Steve shook his head. “Tony, it’s better this way. I’ll be the newest member in your employ in the entire cottage, and I’d rather not be the talk of the whole house before they even know my name. Really. It’s alright. I knew the moment I agreed that there’d be some…stealth involved.”

A smirk formed on Tony’s face. “So you’re saying you enjoy a little cloak-and-dagger?” 

“I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

Something in Tony’s chest started to flutter and he had to look away. Steve Rogers continued to surprise him. It was one thing when Tony thought he’d talked Steve into the carriage ride, but it seemed like the other man had known the risk all along and still, here he sat.

“We’re getting close,” Tony managed after a moment. He lifted his hand and knocked on the side of the carriage to grab the drivers’ attention. “Pull to the side momentarily,” he ordered.

“Aye,” he heard, muffled through the wood and wind, but soon enough they came to a stop and Steve made to slip out. Before he could, Tony cleared his throat again. Steve paused, looking at him over his shoulder expectant. 

“Thank you,” Tony said. “For the company.”

Steve’s smile, wide and happy and blinding stayed on Tony’s mind for the rest of the journey. When they pulled to the cottage, Tony slid out, his footman assisting and all looked proper. He spared a glance towards Steve but he was dutifully looking forward. Tony knew he’d see him again soon enough, but it still didn’t sit right with him as the carriage pulled away towards the servants entrance. 

As he walked inside, Tony’s mind began mentally checkmating Stane in a plethora of scenarios Tony conjured. If he was trying to take the company, take his lands, besmirch his name, or weasel his way into the Stark bloodline with some niece or cousin, Tony would be able to handle it. 

Tony continued through the mansion, up the stairs and into his private chambers. Steve would be along soon to help him undress and bathe for dinner, their evening routine. And tomorrow, Tony would be ready.

#####  ~~~

The mornings at the Stark Cottage were always darker than Tony was used to. The curtains were thicker and heavier to block out the sun, and with it came a somber mood that was hard to shake in any of the rooms. Steve did his best in Tony’s antechamber, opening all the curtains as Tony took his morning coffee by the fireplace, choosing to read over the newspaper in his quarters rather than the breakfast room. He’d been in the county for a dozen hours, and though he knew he needed to meet with Stane, part of him found he’d much rather be in these gloomy halls with Steve than answering Stane’s beckonings. 

Stane, however, decided not to give him any choice in the matter. Midway through Tony's second cup of coffee, footsteps echoed down the hall. Steve had been unpacking and turned to Tony with a furrowed brow. No one else should be in the Stark Cottage, outside of the parlour maid and housekeeper, and neither women carried a stride so heavy, and neither of them would have the audacity to push open the heavy wooden door of Mr. Stark’s wing. 

Obadiah Stane did, though. 

What Stane hadn’t been expecting was Tony’s valet, a veteran and apparent pseudo-bodyguard. A flicker of satisfaction ran through Tony as Stane’s eyes went wide before he could even make it through the doorway. 

“Tony--!” Stane shouted, but Steve pushed him back through the doorway and into the hall without a thought, hand going for a weapon that wasn’t at his hip anymore. Tony had to admit, it was incredibly attractive to see the muscles of his back tense under his coat and the forceful way he placed himself between Tony and what he perceived as danger. 

Stane wasn’t as amenable to the contact. He sputtered and pushed Steve back, winding a first up to follow his shove with a punch. Steve dodged, grabbed Stane’s fist and twisted. Tony realized it was about two minutes past when he should’ve intervened. 

“St--Mr. Rogers,” he caught himself, because the last thing he needed was Stane to perceive any impropriety between them, something to poke or manipulate Tony with. Steve seemed to pick up Tony’s correction immediately, falling back and lowering his gaze to imitate the persona of the epitome of perfect manservant. “This is the gentleman we’re in town to see.” 

Steve didn’t respond because he’d instead broken into a series of sputtered apologies directed towards an aghast Stane, which Tony didn’t want to hear another moment of, so he broke Steve off and asked, “Are you alright, Rogers?”

The question wasn’t improper per se, but it was more intimate than Stane would expect which was why Tony wasn’t surprised to feel his heavy, curious gaze swing between them. But it was worth it to hear Steve’s answer. “Entirely fine, sir. You must be mistaken though, the man you informed me we were here to see is a gentleman, and barging in unannounced is well beyond unseemly.”

“Unseemly? I could say the same to you,” Stane spat, eyes narrowing as he assessed Steve’s status with disdain. 

Steve caught onto Stane’s insult immediately and played it in his favor. “Quite right, apologies, sir. Ever so sorry. I served in the army and some automatic reflexes never fade or fail.” A small smirk revealed itself, even as he kept his gaze averted. “You can rest assured Mr. Stark will never be snuck up upon, so long as I’m in his service.”

Stane sniffed, momentarily flustered, and Tony tried not to fall head over heels in love with Steve Rogers right at that very moment. He maybe failed because there was a yearning that he could swear was powerful enough to draw Steve’s blue gaze to him, but Steve remained infuriatingly professional, now that the perceived danger had passed. Tony wanted him. Badly. 

“Perhaps it would be better for us to meet tomorrow,” Tony said. “Like we’d planned. In my study, not my chambers.” Steve still hadn’t stood down, and it didn’t look like he was planning on it, without a direct order from Tony or Stane’s disappearance. All three of them seemed to be aware which of those two options would happen first. It angered Stane; his expression pinched and ugly splotches formed across his cheek. But still, he nodded and left, his echoing footsteps rushing out as fast as they’d entered, and then there was silence. 

And more silence. 

Another beat, then Steve visibly deflated, his shoulders caving in as the air rushed out. When he looked back at Tony, apprehension hooded his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tony couldn’t hold back the laughter as it bubbled in his throat, and it made Steve’s apprehension morph into confusion which looked even more endearing on his face. “That was the best thing I’ve seen in years, and you must do it every time Stane does anything annoying, which is practically always.” 

A smile flickered at the corner of Steve’s mouth. “You’re not mad?” A shaky breath as Steve ran his hand through his hair. “Of course you’re not mad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…” He pressed his lips together, suddenly shy but that just made Tony want to hear what he had to say all the more. “You don’t exactly toe the line of propriety.” 

Tony scoffed through a grin. “Is this because of Miss. Potts and Mr. Rhodes?”

Steve’s cheeks dusted pink at the mere mention of the impropriety. It made Tony even more eager to spark other little reactions out of him. “Partly.” With the door closed and the threat gone, Steve took a deep breath and walked over to the corner of the room where a few of Tony’s coats lay strewn over the open wardrobe. 

“And the other parts?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to scoff, raising an eye to Tony and then his eyebrow. “Would you like me going back to treating you as one in your station should be treated?” Then, as if an afterthought that more than emphasized, he added, “Sir.” 

“Pass.” Tony faked a yawn. “Boring.”

“Exactly.” 

The rest of the evening passed in companionable conversation, as Steve tried to brush a grease stain out of yet another one of Tony’s dinner shirts. He mumbled on and off about how these should only be worn  _ outside  _ of his laboratory, but Tony mostly ignored his tittering in favor of focusing on how the firelight set his blonde hair a darker gold. 

Maybe he’d fallen a bit deeper for Steve than he’d originally considered.

The idea took him through the next morning and into his meeting with Stane. Steve stayed in the servants level, even though Tony had suggested he join as muscle. It didn’t matter though, Stane had been spooked enough and their meeting veered closer to respectful than anything else Tony had experienced with Stane. Almost like maybe Stane had finally realized Tony wasn’t a lost duckling looking for a waddling goose to follow, but instead a man who had come into his own, with his own allies that had nothing to do with Stane whatsoever. 

Tony drafted correspondence to three potential business partners, signed them and rolled them up without giving Stane time to cosign under him. The memory of Stane’s sputtering fueled him through to the rest of the day and into the following morning, to when they planned to depart back north.

#####  ~~~

The carriage seemed as closed-in this time around as it had the last. Once again, Tony sat thigh to thigh next to Steve. This time, his valet wasn’t reading but sewing a hem of Tony’s pants, that he had somehow frayed open. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony watched as Steve bit the corner of his too red lip while he concentrated on the task in his hand. If he noticed Tony’s gaze he either didn’t mind it or thought it improper to ask Tony to stop staring; he must notice, the corner of Tony’s eye was pretty close to his own, maybe there was another reason...

And what was proper or improper between them seemed to be a blurred line more well-trodden than the one they currently rode across. The indents of the wheel like Tony’s well thought out conversation with himself about whether Steve Rogers might also have an interest in him. He did nearly punch a man for him. He’d said it was reflex but...well...he wasn’t the best liar Tony had ever met. 

The carriage went into another dip in the mud, jostling them both. Steve seemed to ride it better, keeping the sewing needle out in the air and away from their seat. Tony, on the other hand, lurched forward then back, spine hitting the back of the seat hard, radiating pain throughout his entire torso. “Ouch,” Tony groaned once he righted himself. 

Steve dropped the trousers and turned to face Tony, hands coming out towards his chest but then pausing in midair. It was like they both froze at once. Tony was close enough to see the flecks of green in his otherwise blue eyes. Had they been this close before? Tony’s gaze flicked to Steve’s lips as he cleared his throat, nervous, and he immediately regretted it because all it did was jolt Steve back to the present, where he very quickly realized their position, and  _ his _ position, and reacted so violently he actually shot back into the carriage seat across from Tony, instead of at his place next to him. The place next to him, which was now empty except for Tony’s trousers, ruined hem and all.

The rest of the six hour journey went by excruciatingly slowly, filled with faux-sleeping and stilted conversation and Tony wondering if Steve’s gaze had flicked down to Tony’s lips as well. A part of Tony hoped that when he was thinking about the green flecks in Steve’s blue eyes, that the man was having his own wandering thoughts. It was a pesky thought, needling into the back of Tony’s mind, but he couldn’t seem to shake it for the rest of their journey. Tony found himself so preoccupied, it was Steve that had to remind him they needed to switch his seating to the top of the carriage, before they arrived at Stark Manor.

He found himself just as bereft to see him go as last time. 

#####  ~~~

Once they arrived back at Stark Manor, dusk had fallen and Tony whisked to his chambers to ready for dinner. On any other evening where he’d be returning from a long journey, he’d have completely waved off the ceremony and taken dinner is his laboratory or his study, but something about Steve waiting in his bedchamber, shuffling from his wardrobe to the bathroom and so on, made the whole routine feel like a more settling option. 

Sitting at his dining room table, alone, waiting on a plate full of food half an hour later, made him reconsider. He’d started to nod off but the pinch in his shoulder and chest still ached from where they’d hit the back of the carriage seat. When the food arrived, he shovelled it into his mouth barely tasting a bite of Mrs. Hawthorne’s wonderful talents. 

He refused to rush because he knew Steve would be in his chambers, still unpacking his wardrobe and assessing his garments' conditions after the journey. At least, that was what he’d told himself, but he knew even ignoring the reasons behind it, his meal couldn’t make it down his throat quick enough. He ended up waving off dessert and taking his nightcap in his chambers over the parlour. 

When he pushed open the heavy bedroom door, he might have imagined the flicker of a smirk that appeared on the corner of Steve’s mouth when he looked at Tony from over his shoulder, but Tony didn’t think so. 

Steve looked frayed, like he’d been running his hand through his hair and pulling at his collar. It was warm in the room and he’d taken off his coat. His broad shoulders filled the crisply starched fabric in a way Tony often found distracting. Tonight, he let his gaze linger for a beat too long. 

Between their journey and the trip itself, everything felt a bit dreamlike, awash in the glow of the fireplace. Steve stepped closer, but waited for a cue as his position warranted. Tony hated it. 

A beat of silence too long, and Steve closed the space between them, hand coming to his shoulder to rest on Tony’s dinner jacket. “Bed or a nightcap first?” Steve asked for the order Tony had failed to give him.

Any other night, he’d have a nightcap but after the journey, his chest and shoulder aching, and his scotch with dinner, all he could think about was ending the day. If it led to Steve undressing him again, that was just a coincidence. “Bed.” 

When Tony was situated in front of the mirror, Steve pulled off his dinner jacket. Pain sparked along his shoulder and chest. Tony winced, and Steve’s hands shot back, away from Tony. 

“Sir, my apologies, I--”

“It’s not your fault, Steve, trust me.” Tony waved his hands in dismissal. “If anyone's to blame it's the carriage seat or possibly the driver, but certainly not you, my sweet,” he rushed, more focused on smoothing the rigid furrow in Steve’s brow than his words. So when Steve took a short, shocked breath, Tony realized. His tone, the one that was supposed to sound flippant and disregarding, had instead come out like a reassurance, with a term of endearment to boot. 

Tony rushed on and tried to ignore the pink starting to dust Steve’s cheeks. “It’s from the jostle. It aggravated my--” Tony gestured towards his chest, and Steve was still looking a little shell-shocked from Tony’s slip of the tongue, but this new information jolted him back to the present.

“I have the salve!” The statement was too loud for the quiet room, nervousness seeming to ricochet between them, and Tony chuckled under his breath, trying to release the tension in his own chest. “The one that I mentioned weeks ago.”

“Well--” he smiled, strained, trying to regain proper footing between them. “Let’s give it a go,” Tony said, because he couldn’t think of any other response that would keep that furrow from returning to Steve’s brow. 

It wasn’t until Steve was back in front of him, salve waiting on a nearby table and hands coming up to start unbuttoning his dress shirt, that Tony realized exactly what sort of situation he’d invited for them both. Sure, Steve helped undress him and dressed him daily, but the whole process was usually completed in a matter of minutes, from one outfit into another and then they went on with their day. Now, Tony stood in front of Steve in just his thin undershirt as his strong, capable hands twisted open the jar. 

Tony shifted, tried to remain still, then shifted again before Steve was back in front of him with an open salve jar in his hand. He tugged on the bottom of Tony’s undershirt, and Tony took that as a cue to take it off. In the brief moment where the only thing that existed was the white of his undershirt backed by the glow of the fireplace, Tony marveled at the fact that he was following an order from Steve. Quickly followed by the thought that he possibly very much liked it. 

Steve was waiting when the world reappeared, jar of salve in his hand. It didn’t seem like there was any remaining space between them but then Steve broke the last remaining barrier with his salve-covered fingers running gently, and tentatively, over the edge of Tony’s faintest scar. 

Neither of them seemed to be breathing, or at least Tony couldn't hear a single exhale. Tony cleared his throat, and Steve’s eyes shot from his bare chest up to his eyes. He was so close, and there was something there, mixed into Steve’s gaze, a question that darkened it, that made Tony’s blood rush with hope and desire, and when he licked his lips, he wanted so badly for Steve’s focus to drop towards the motion, but almost couldn’t believe it when they did.

It all felt surreal, the glow of the fireplace mixing with the earthy scent of the salve, only amplifying the dreamlike haze bathing the entire room. They shared a raggedy breath. Tony cleared his throat again. “The part that hurts--” His voice sounded rough, too breathy and he swallowed again. “It’s a little higher.”

Steve dragged his fingers up Tony’s skin, increasing the pressure as they traveled and even through the dulled pain of his sore muscle, he couldn’t hold back the groan from how good the touch felt. Seemingly misinterpreting the sound as pain, Steve took a step back and removed his hand. Tony’s skin felt cool, goosebumps forming where the salve hit the open air. 

“I’m fine,” Tony explained before Steve could ask. The salve left a tingling, but not unpleasant sensation, and eased away the tense pull he usually felt around the scarred skin. “You can continue.”

Steve nodded, hand coming back, higher this time, hovering right over his sternum and the bulk of his scarring. With another dip into the salve Steve’s fingers returned to Tony’s chest and lathered in it. Biting his lip, Tony tried to keep his reactions internal but they slipped out when Steve first brushed a finger against his skin, tingling his skin into goosebumps as he moved. When he hit his first knot of scarring, near his nipple, Tony sucked in a breath.

“Sorry--”

“It’s not pain.” He reached up and dragged his finger over his own nipple. “A bit sensitive.”

Steve’s gaze had fixed on the nub, a whispered, “Tony,” slipping out. Steve heard it and flushed, pulling his gaze away from Tony’s nipple to drag up over his neck and jaw until they met Tony’s eyes again. There was a question in the crease of Steve’s brow, the inner tilt of his eyebrows and maybe it was Tony’s faint nod, or how he licked his lips again but something in Steve snapped and he was on Tony again but this time with his lips. 

Tony opened under him, lips parting for the first inquisitive taste of the man he had fantasized about for months. As they deepened the kiss, Steve’s hands wrapped around Tony, bringing his bare chest against Steve’s jacket, the hand not covered in salve coming to dig into Tony’s hair, tilting his head in a way that shot arousal down Tony’s spine, and let Steve direct their kiss. 

Letting out a shaky breath against Steve’s lips, Tony relaxed in his arms. Tony had admired Steve’s hands as they twisted closed a button or closely shaved Tony’s face, but to have one in his hair and the other covered in salve but still gripping at Tony’s side, fingers spanning along his lower back. Just the simple touch was enough to have gasps slipping from his throat. “The bed?” Tony whispered. “Or a chair--anything. I don’t think I have much standing left in me, with you kissing me like that.”

Steve smirked, but it was softened by the flush of pink deepening in his cheeks and the way he hesitated before looking towards Tony’s bed. As his valet, he wasn’t the one responsible for tending to the bed, but the way he stared at it now looked to Tony as if it was a complete unknown to him. Tony was about to push back a little, enough to see Steve’s face more clearly but then Steve’s hands were moving again, over the nape of his neck and brushing softly down his spine before sliding his hand into Tony’s. Everywhere he touched sparked wild pulses of pleasure under his skin; he wanted Steve, wanted him in far fewer clothes than he currently possessed, wanted his kiss, his touch.

Steve reached the bed first, sliding back until his shoulders hit the wooden bedframe. It was as if Tony’s reality shifted, and he was in one of his many fantasies, back in the bathtub with a hand around his cock imagining how Mr. Rogers would look sprawled out on his bed. Nothing could compare to the sight of Steve, legs fallen open and shoulders pulling against his shirt and coat with each breath, visible proof of how affected he was by their kiss, by Tony.

Tony put one knee on the bed and then the other, crawling forward until he was tucked back into Steve’s side, lips within reach. “Have you ever thought about this?" Tony asked, because he was rapacious in his desire to know what made this man tick. Steve’s answer was all over his face. 

Tony’s eyes widened slightly, followed by a soft chuckle. “Tony--” the rare sound of his name sounded wonderful falling from Steve’s mouth, the familiarity it implied. It threw Tony for a moment, but then Steve was answering his question and he forced himself to focus on his words and not the way they made his heart race, “--my entire employ revolves around you, most of it undressing or redressing, sir. Of course I’ve thought about it.”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds deviant--”

“This  _ is _ deviant!” He leaned in and kissed Tony again. “You shouldn’t be allowing this.”

Tony couldn’t help his grin even though it pressed against Steve's mouth. “I should most certainly be allowing this.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“Oh--” Tony grinned wide, pressed a quick kiss against Steve’s lips. “Should you be talking to your master in such a way?”

Steve answered by biting Tony’s bottom lip, pulling away to kiss under his jaw. Tony felt more than saw Steve’s smirk. “My master seems most pleased.” As if to emphasize his point he tangled their legs together, hips brushing in a tantalizing wisp of pressure. “But I can stop, change my behavior, if--” 

Tony tightened his hold on Steve, who laughed in a rough, breathy way before pulling Tony back into a kiss. This time, Tony took a bit more control, rolling his hips to the side so he could lay on top of Steve’s broad chest, eagerly caging where his trim waist narrowed with a leg on either side. From there he brought his hand to Steve’s waistcoat and began undoing the buttons, his chest and stomach firm under Tony’s hand. Tony let his fingers drag and linger.

Under him Steve caught a breath, and Tony flicked his gaze to his face, hands pausing in question.

Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to stop. I merely…”

“What?” Tony pressed, because whatever it was had heated Steve’s gaze and Tony yearned to know everything that aroused Steve.

“Never expected to see you undressing me.”

“Tables turned,” Tony said, leaning down again to kiss him briefly before flattening his hands to feel the muscles shift under the half opened waistcoat and dress shirt. Steve’s smooth skin writhed under Tony’s touch, the very strength of him tensing and loosening with every half heaved breath. “I seem to be having quite the effect on you,” Tony observed.

Steve let out an airy laugh. “Are you surprised? I’ve spent months in your vicinity, holding your confidence, but--” he swallowed “--Tony, I’ve never seen you like this before.” 

Tony’s focus moved down along Steve’s chest, undressing him, and it was only because he wasn’t looking at Steve that he was able to ask, “And how am I?”

Something in the question must have emboldened Steve, that was the only reason for the sudden shift in him, for the tightening of his legs around Tony’s waist and turning them so that Steve now straddled him. Before Tony could even get used to the feel of his toned thighs on either side of him, Steve was removing his waistcoat and dress shirt, leaving him in barely a threadbare undershirt. He looked radiant, eyes dark with desire, and there was a new twist to his smile, one Tony had never seen before but it lodged hot and insistent in his groin making his cock twitch. 

Then Steve began answering Tony’s question. “Your beauty was obvious from the first moment I laid eyes on you. It was equally obvious that you thwarted convention, and generally revelled in a certain amount of chaotic creativity.'

“Unfortunate, that that won’t fit on my tombstone. Perhaps a renovation to the mausoleum is in order--”

“But you were always untouchable,” Steve interrupted him. Tony was thrown for a moment, tried to remember if Steve had ever interrupted him before, but then his words resonated, and Tony realized that, to Steve, he was no longer untouchable. He was here, physically, under Steve’s touch, pressed down on his bed between Steve’s thighs. But he had also interrupted him; they were equals now, it was how they both saw one another. 

And something about it struck a fire behind Steve’s blue eyes, made his touch a little more determined, hands and eyes moving along Tony like he could do what he pleased with him. Tony’s cock twitched again, on its way to hardening fully, and he still had his breeches on. 

“Now, you’re right here”--Steve lowered so his lips pressed against Tony’s neck, breath ghosting along Steve’s skin as he bent to allow the man more access--“under my lips, and when I move my hands along your body like this”--he dragged his hand from Tony’s collarbone, lightly over his scars, across his nipple, down, down to the button of his breeches, then--as Tony held a breath under him--he began the journey back up. “I get to do all the things I’d thought about, the wisps of fantasy that I forced away, I can revel in this, and know what it’s like to finally have you.”

Tony let out a breath. “I had no idea.”

Lifting his gaze, Steve smirked. “I know. And before you ask”--he kissed Tony then, before moving back to the button of his pants --”I did see you looking at me once or twice, but given our status you had no need to keep anything hidden.”

“Other than propriety.”

“Which we’ve already established you’re not fond of,” Steve quipped, and Tony wondered if this was what falling in love was like, the constant unraveling discovery of who a person was and being delighted at every turn. Steve Rogers was far more devilish than he’d ever given him credit, in his fantasies.

Then Steve was pulling open his pants and sliding his hand in to wrap around Tony and his mind blanked out of all thought outside of Steve and the feel of his touch. 

“I want to feel you too,” Tony managed after a low moan. “Get the rest of that clothing off and--” 

Steve moved down, pulling Tony’s pants and drawers off instead and bringing his mouth back up to hover Tony’s hard cock where it bounced in the open air from the force of Steve’s undressing. Steve traced his eyes back up Tony until it met their gazes. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do, after all those times I was on my knees helping you with your riding boots.”

Tony’s cock pulsed at his words, at all the thoughts and scenarios Tony had conjured of just a similar situation. “Yes,” he breathed, and Steve lowered his mouth with their eyes still locked, just bringing the soft brush of his lips to the head of Tony’s cock first. 

“I’ve wondered what you tasted like.” He licked along the slit.

“Hell--Steve. If you keep talking I might finish early all over that beautiful face of yours.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Steve smirked. “This time.” He lowered his mouth back down, warmth engulfing his shaft.

Tony moaned, wanting to thrust his cock deeper into Steve’s mouth as the barrage of possibilities rushed through his mind of what they could get up to, now that the roles between them had shifted like the tides. It seemed as if he wouldn’t be the only one calling the shots, not  _ this time _ anyway. 

Steve Rogers had definitely done this before. The fact alone was driving all the blood down from Tony's head. The way he curled his tongue around the head of Tony’s cock, his gaze flicking up to watch Tony’s response--he was playing Tony like an instrument and damn if competence wasn’t one of Tony’s favorite turn ons. His mouth was warm, wet and eager, determined, in a way none of Tony’s fantasies had captured. Tony’s head rolled back onto his pillow and he let himself go under Steve. Whatever the man wanted to take from him, Tony was more than willing to give. 

When Steve added a hand to the equation, Tony’s control tilted entirely out of his favor and into Steve’s. His hands were so big, easily able to wrap around the length of him and he squeezed with an enticing amount of pressure. Tony saw stars as his eyes rolled back from pleasure. “Yes, Steve,” he said between gasps.

Steve moaned around his cock in reply and the vibrations made Tony’s toes curl; he wouldn’t last much longer. 

“I’m close,” Tony warned. But instead of pulling back, Steve dragged a finger down along his perineum before coming to tease at his hole. Steve looked up and raised an eyebrow in question, and Tony replied by moaning and nodding. It had been awhile since anyone else had touched him in such an intimate way, but Tony rocked into the feel, thrusted his hips down onto the intrusion. 

“There’s lubricant in the--”

Steve cut him off by pulling back, chuckling. “Did you forget who has been stocking it, since you revealed its existence to me?” His lips were wet and thick from being around Tony’s cock and his teasing tone and expression made Tony groan and drop his head back to the pillow, unable to look at him any longer without coming all over his gorgeous face. 

“If you know where it is, then you’re just being a tease on purpose?”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking our time,” Steve said as he reached for the drawer and pulled out the vial of lubricant, poured it onto his hands. “You know it’s my duty to take care of you.” Steve smirked. 

“Pretty certain your duties don’t extend to--ah, yes, that.” Steve's wet fingers returned to Tony’s hole. 

“Oh?” Steve asked, the flirtatious tone curling around the word, going straight to Tony’s cock. “Are you sure?” Then his finger was moving, pushing past Tony’s rim and his head lowered so his lips could tease at the head of Tony’s cock, tongue coming out to lick him at random. “Can I take care of you?” he whispered. “Make you feel good?”

“God, Steve.” Tony moaned. “Please.”

“Like this?” he asked but clearly had no intention of letting Tony answer, closing the remaining space between them until he had Tony’s cock engulfed again, this time his finger sliding inside him certain and sure, up until his knuckle. “Yes, Steve!” Tony twisted his linens in his fist. “More, more, I’m not going to break.”

Steve chuckled huskily from exertion and desire, and slipped his finger all the way in with little warning, tilting it upwards and expertly seeking out the spot inside Tony that’d make him see stars. Tony’s back arched off the bed, and Steve had to take the hand not otherwise occupied and grip his hip to the bed so he could keep his mouth connected to Tony’s cock.

With an unrelenting certainty, Steve slid in a second finger, barely moving from his prostate as he used the other one to stretch. Tony wanted Steve to quicken, make haste, he wanted to feel his cock replace his fingers before Steve teased his prostate over the edge. But Steve seemed to have other plans, even as Tony squirmed and whimpered and gripped his hair and pleaded, “I’m going to come.” Steve doubled down instead of pulling off, and Tony’s entire body tensed, nearly lifting off the bed, and he came down Steve’s throat, so deep he felt the grip of his throat muscles as he swallowed around Tony. 

A tear may have slipped out of Tony’s squeezed eyes as he came down, he felt thoroughly rung out, as tense as he had been before, now he was limp and loose, stretched, prepared. Steve slid out his fingers, and there was the blunt feel of the head of Steve’s cock. 

Tony rolled his head on the pillow, so he could open his eyes and meet Steve’s gaze. “Do it,” he whispered, it sounded like an order, but it was unlike any other command he’d given him. It was a breath of a wish, a needy desperation, and it made Steve moan as he followed it. Between one ragged breath and another, Steve slid past his rim and into Tony. 

He was so loose in his afterglow that they barely had any resistance, Steve taking Tony with every inch until he bottomed out. They moaned as one, and Steve fell forward and brought their lips together. Tony felt him everywhere, his hands running along Tony’s side, his mouth claiming Tony’s lips, dragging along his neck, peppering his eyes, cheeks, lips, everywhere. He’d never expected, all those times he’d imagined it, that Steve would be so sweet with him. Tony burned for it though. 

With every rock of Steve’s hips, he locked onto Tony’s prostate, his determined strokes pushing Tony to his limit, his spent cock twitching into a half hardness that surprised Tony and seemed to delight Steve, the way that he ran a soft touch along the oversensitive shaft, just for a moment, caressing. Tony’s moan cut off with a whimper, and it just made Steve chuckle, deep and breathy and  _ god _ Tony might actually come again. Steve must have sensed it because he slowed, strokes moving to a deeper, torturously slow pace, pressing long and hard against his prostate. Steve lowered until their chests brushed together and he could whisper in Tony’s ear, “Let me take care of you.”

Tony nodded, moaned, rocked his hips as much as he could through the weight of Steve’s hips to chase the unrelenting pressure of Steve’s cock against his prostate. Slow circles of Steve’s hips, and the head of his cock was right there doing the same to Tony, milking him for all he was worth. His whole body grew tense, the loose afterglow long gone as a sheen of sweat broke across his skin. 

The tremors started first, his legs and hips; it had been so long since he’d had multiple orgasms, and Steve peppered kisses along his neck, biting and breathing and sparking goosebumps along his spine all the way through it. “I’m going to make you feel so good, take everything you can give,” he said against Tony’s skin. 

Tony cursed. “Your cock.” He breathed. “It might be magic.”

Steve let a breathy laugh out against his neck. “You’re a scientist.”

“You’re a--” he was cut off when Steve twisted his hips one last time, rocking forward, and Tony whimpered, tensed, then shook as his cock twitched through another release. Above him, Steve shuddered and groaned into Tony’s neck.

“Ah-ah,” Steve mumbled into his throat. “You’re so tight. I--” Tony felt his release hit his prostate and Tony shivered again. Steve collapsed onto him after a moment, both of them groaning from exhaustion. Despite his weight, Tony wrapped his arms around Steve and held him close.

Tony hummed. “You made me feel so good.”

He felt Steve’s smirk against his neck. “Mission accomplished.” 

“Is that what this was?”

“Well, it is my duty to look after you--”

“Says the man in my employ.” 

“-- _ but _ , I believe this falls under the category of leisure.”

“There was nothing leisurely about what we just did.”

Steve chuckled against his neck before pulling back but Tony kept his arms wrapped around him, not wanting him to move, for them to have to return to reality. 

“I don’t want to suffocate you.” 

“You’re not.”

“I’m likely to fall asleep. You wore me out.”

“You wore  _ me _ out. Now sleep. After that experience, it’s the only  _ proper _ thing to do.” 

Steve laughed into Tony’s neck. “I can’t see you, and I’m far too comfortable to move, but I’m imagining you’re winking.”

“Fantasizing about me again already?”

Steve pretended to snore, then broke off with a rumble of another laugh vibrating against where their chests met. “Going to be dreaming about you too, soon,” he mumbled. Then, after a pause added. “My sweet.”

Tony’s breath caught, and he knew Steve heard it, but all he did was nuzzle Tony closer until they both fell asleep. 

#####  ~~~

Tony woke to the dipping of the bed. Behind closed lids, he heard the rustle of Steve dressing, the pouring of a pitcher of water into a bowl and the splash of it from his hands to his face. Tony could imagine all of it, even though none of it was anything Steve had done in his chambers before.

Then the familiar sounds began. The opening of the curtains, a wash of morning glow shining its light on their tucked away improprieties. Tony wondered how Steve would play it, and the thoughts led to his pulse racing a hint faster. He pushed the thoughts away and focused instead on Steve walking across the room, humming under his breath. It was a happy little sound, and Tony wondered if Steve even realized he was doing it. It continued as he opened up Tony’s wardrobe, and Tony stretched into the sheets, letting himself blink his eyes open and greet the day. 

Whatever may come with it.

Steve looked over when Tony sat up. Tony hadn’t put on a nightshirt the night before and, unlike Steve, had no rush to dress. Based on the way Steve’s gaze traced over him, then met Tony’s with an accompanying smirk, it seemed clear he did not mind either. 

So, no, he didn’t appear outwardly regretful. In fact his smirk extended into a bright smile. “Are you going to stay in bed all day, or are you going to allow me to dress you?”

“Is this a riddle? I’d surely choose you in bed, over starting the day,” Tony replied, letting his tone match Steve’s cheerful one, though adding a wink did advance solidly into flirting, and when he added, “Join me?” there was no question.

Steve chuckled, and shook his head, a far cry from the playful man that had bedded him only hours ago, but also familiar, like so much of this morning. “As novel as that sounds, you are as aware as I that breakfast has already been served in the breakfast room. After that you have a meeting with the Stane connections, and I rather think that can’t be missed, then--”

Tony groaned, but the smile seemed unable to slip from his face. He pushed to his feet and walked over to his wardrobe, where Steve had his clothes for the day waiting for him. “I am capable of dressing myself,” Tony whispered conspiratorially between them. 

“Now you are? After weeks--”

“Except for some of the laces and buttons, which I’d need assistance with.”

Steve looked affronted. “Like you could last a day without grease stains and torn hems in my absence.” He stepped closer. “Or are you just trying to rile me up?”

Tony put his hands up in defeat, then dropped one around Steve’s waist. It didn’t escape Tony how Steve gasped, small but noticeable. Their eyes met, and in Steve’s gaze he found something that made him close the space between them, pressing their chests together until Tony’s bare skin brushed against Steve’s linen shirt, “You’re absolutely right, my sweet, whatever would I do without you?” 

“Certainly, you won’t be finding out any time soon,” Steve said, then closed the remaining space between them with a kiss, deep and sure. 

Many moments later, when Tony finally could bear to pull away he looked Steve in the eye again, and saw in them his lover, his equal, his friend. 

#####  ~~~

Tony Stark stood in front of the grandiose windows along the blue room’s far wall, mind on the man seated beside him pondering possible trajectories over a chessboard. Steve rarely shied away below, in the servants quarters these days, instead he kept his leisure time in the company of Tony. However questionable anyone might find it or the other liberties Tony bestowed upon Steve, neither he nor Steve had heard of it. All seemed well in the Stark Mansion, despite Tony still being completely and utterly frustrated with his newest invention. 

The sounds of horseshoes hitting cobblestone shook Tony from his thoughts. Down in his entryway, a carriage pulled towards the servants entrance and Mr. Rhodes, walked out to greet the new arrival. Tony watched as he slid his hand into Miss Potts, their palms lingering together on just the wrong side of propriety.

He turned back to Steve, clearing his throat. “We should set dinner for four this evening.”

“And have Mr. Rhodes join us?” Steve asked his chess pieces. “You’re meddling.”

“Perhaps. Only a little.” Tony sighed. 

Steve smiled then, looking up and meeting Tony’s gaze. “I’d say it’s improper--that you should let them figure it out on their own--but that would just tempt you more.”

“You know me well, my sweet.” Tony grinned wide. “Let’s inform the kitchen. The impropriety is spreading.”

Steve laughed. “You look far too delighted, but need I remind you, if anything, they started the trend.”

“Ridiculous,” Tony replied. He walked across the room to stand next to Steve. “And even if that were the case, it is an unarguable fact that we perfected it.” He leaned down and gave Steve a kiss, right in the middle of the afternoon, in the blue room, for anyone to see. 

“Quite right,” Steve whispered against his lips. “My sweet.”


End file.
